


Mio Bella Rosa

by EmilCosantoir



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Arranged Marriage, Crossdressing, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilCosantoir/pseuds/EmilCosantoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino, the heir of a wealthy textile business, has a pretty good life in Venice during the prosperous Renaissance era, until, that is, he finds himself kidnapped by his scheming cousin, Sadiq. All so suddenly, his life takes a turn for the worst. Feigning the role of Rosella Lavinia Adnan, a female relative of Sadiq, Lovino weds and starts to begin life as an infamous count's...Wife?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lavender

It was the year 1519 and Italy was flourishing. In the midst of their Renaissance, (though no one would actually coin the term for centuries to come) business was booming, art was plentiful, and it was, all in all, a good time to be in Italy. In one affluent-looking mansion in Naples, one man in particular was enjoying this period of decadence.

Antonio swirled a glass of red wine idly as he sat on the sofa in his drawing room. The Spaniard took a long, deliberate sip before looking back to the man sitting across from him, Sadiq. He really did not like this man. He was a manipulative bastard, he knew, and a womanizer on top of that. But then, Antonio couldn’t call himself too much better in the latter regard, and Sadiq just happened to have ties with one of the most powerful merchant families in Europe, the Vargas’. So he tolerated his company. Being a Count, after all, one could never have too many powerful friends.

Antonio lowered his glass and smiled, quite fakely. “Ah, the privilege of the wealthy.” He commented.

Sadiq chuckled, the half-Ottoman man lounging comfortably. “Indeed.” He replied, though his own wine remained untouched. “All the wine you can drink, all the jewels you can hold, and all the women you can handle.”

Antonio laughed. “Ah, yes, I forgot you prefer to pay for your women rather than go through the trouble of getting yourself an honest one.”

“Ah, as if you’re any better.” Sadiq prodded back. “With the way you talk, you’d think you’d need a bigger house for the girls you bring home each night. Mayhap the Count is more bite than bark?”

Antonio smiled, a bit dangerously. “I’d be careful with your accusations. You wouldn’t want the wrath of a nobleman coming down on you, would you?”

There was a moment of silence, before both men broke out into laughter, more to ease the tension than anything else. “Antonio, tell me.” Antonio turned his head to look at the man properly as he continued. “You were saying you needed a wife, correct?”

Antonio rolled his eyes, laughing dismissively. “Yes, that’s correct. The family line, and all that. Society would, after all, throw a fit if I didn’t settle down soon and have a litter.”

Sadiq laughed again at the comment, a loud, barking laugh with a sharp edge to it. “Yes, well, when you put it that way.” He rearranged himself in his seat, leaning forward almost conspiratorially, and smiling in such a way that made Antonio a tad uneasy. “I think I may have a solution to your problems.” He said.

This piqued the Spaniard’s interests. “Tell me more.” He said, sitting at full attention now.

Sadiq obliged. “I have a beautiful young Italian woman for you, just of marrying age. If you’re interested, that is. She’s of a good standing, and the dowry would be nothing to sneeze at either.”

Antonio raised a brow in questioning. He had only told Sadiq of his marriage troubles a week ago, at most, and the man already had a bride in mind for him? But then, he really did need an heir. With his parents gone, and no siblings in the picture, he couldn’t afford not to marry, or the family line would die with him. And things did get lonely here in his big house… having a wife around to ease that would be nothing he’d object to. “Alright.” He found himself saying. “You’d be willing to arrange everything?”

“Of course, of course.” Sadiq said, waving a hand in dismissal. “You just leave everything to me.”

“Wonderful. You’re a life saver, Sadiq.” A thought occurred to him, though. “Oh,” He asked. “What’s her name?’

The Ottoman seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then answered; “Rosella. You’ll love her.”

 

Somewhere in Venice…

 

A young man, maybe in his teens, tore through the market square with three masked men following closely behind. On first thought, you would've thought they were his loyal servants, tending to his every need. But, with a closer look, you would see that they were trying to catch him.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" The young man muttered under his breath, diving behind an abandoned

vendor's stall. The men had not spotted him yet. That was a good sign, he supposed.

Panting, He quickly dusted the flour off of his silk tunic. "Damn this!" He muttered under his breath, not caring if he sounded like a rotten sailor. Why did he have to have a fucking asthma attack while three men with weapons were trying to kidnap him? And why did he have to be born into the family of a wealthy textile merchant?! These men had been after him for weeks, maybe a month by now, and he had no idea why! Typical, he reminded himself; everyone was after the textile business. "They won't find me." He promised himself quietly. They couldn't! He had his family to look after! Since his grandfather was getting older by the minute, he was in charge of the household. He couldn't leave his irresponsible younger brother to run the textile business alone! The little twit would bring the family name to ruin!

Pausing in his mental rant of annoyance, the boy looked to see how close his kidnappers were. The three masked men had stopped, confused. The young man snickered at their stupidity. (Well, it was true that he wasn't hidden very well. They should have found him by now, surely.) After poking their ugly noses around the square for a few minutes, they seemed to lose interest, much to the young man's relief. Now he could just get out of this mess and go on with his daily life.

Slowly and carefully, the messily-clad merchant's grandson crept out of his hiding place and headed down the alley-way, making sure the creeps weren't following him. Fortunately, they were too focused on interpreting a map. The boy couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Trying to kidnap someone when you don't even know the area! Utter foolishness! Then, much to his horror, he began to choke. Forcing himself to slow down, he tried to gulp in as much air as possible. Fortuna had left his side today.

One of the masked men cocked his head, hearing something. He walked towards the abandoned stall the boy had just been hiding behind, suspicious. Then his dark eyes landed on the escaping teen.  
"Hark! The snob is over there!" He shouted as he started to chase the lad. Dropping the map, his two partners quickly followed after him.

"FUCK THIS!" The merchant's grandson cursed, still attempting to breath normally. His legs were tiring by the second. "Dear God, give me strength...and please...help me breath!" He prayed. But then again, God probably couldn't hear him. The men were getting closer and closer.

"This is the end..." He whispered, giving up hope, his legs slowing, his breath coming out in ragged huffs. "Goodbye Feliciano..."

He fainted from lack of air just as the men closed in on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this is Emil here for the prologue.  
> For your information, writing a Spamano fanfiction about a male unwillingly crossdressing, set in the Renaissance era was my idea. I apologize yaoi-haters.  
> Anyways, onto the real inspiration. So I went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston a few months ago (really awesome place, by the way. If you ever have a chance to go, then I urge you...GO FOR GOODNESS' SAKE!). They have this really huge renaissance hall, which was really awesome :3. I was listening to the audio tour and found this picture of a couple right after marriage. Unfortunately for my mind, this painting put a nagging idea in my mind of Lovino-San in a Renaissance-style wedding dress marrying Antonio-San. And then, sooner or later, Cosantoir-Senpai and I had put together the plot we have now.  
> Oh, and you can find the flowers' meanings on Wikipedia! :3  
> If you haven't guessed already, Cosantoir-Senpai wrote Antonio's section and I wrote Lovino's. Enjoy :3!


	2. The WormWood

If you've ever been beaten and whipped, you know it's not pleasant. It certainly wasn't for the fifteen year old Lovino. Blindfolded, exposed, and in pain, the boy still found the strength to shout curses that would earn him a mouth washing with lye from Friar Basch.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

Crack. Another wave of pain came, his strength dissipating more with each blow. "Would you mind?" A heavily Ottoman accent scolded. Menace coated with milk and honey...Where had Lovino heard that before? It seemed...familiar. Like family. But why would a family member kidnap - oh yeah, the business. Some days he really, really wished he had been born into a normal family, this being one of those days.

"Wh-who the fuck are you?!" Lovino demanded, wincing at how weak he sounded.

The man laughed. Crack. More life-crushing pain. Lovino could see a light; the light of heaven?

"My, my." Mused the sickly-sweet voice. "Feisty aren't you?" Nope, he wasn't dead yet. But he probably would be soon.

"Shut up." Lovino growled. His life line was hanging in threads. Something seemed to break inside of him, for suddenly, he was afraid. Very afraid.

When the man finally seemed satisfied with how much blood he had spilled, Lovino could hear the whip being dropped to the hard stone floor. "Now, are you going to cooperate or should I kill you now?"

Lovino nodded weakly. "Please...I'll do anything you want..." Shit, that probably wasn't the best thing to say to the deadly pervert.

"Wonderful!" The man's bark sent a shiver down Lovino's spine, if it even existed still. Lovino was roughly pulled from his spot on the ground. After being led to a chair, his blindfold was removed. The light was dim, but Lovino could still barely spot the shape of a masked man.

"C-cousin Adnan?" He blurted in surprise. He had always known Sadiq was a mean son of a bitch, but to think he would go this far… what could he want from him, anyway? Aside from the business, that is, but couldn’t he just kill him if that was all he wanted? What was the point of this torture?

Lovino's cousin chuckled. "I go by Sadiq nowadays."

"Wh-why do you n-need me..." Lovino's voice started to waver.

Sadiq sighed and started to pick at his robes. "I hate to do this, but a friend of mine needs a wife and put me in charge of finding one." He was obviously faking the pity, Lovino knew that much. “And it would be so nice to be in good favor with someone of such high standing, don’t you agree?”

"W-what do I have to do with this?" Lovino did know lots of pretty girls but...

"You're pretty cute." Sadiq's smile was worse than his laugh, his pearly white teeth glinting like a razor-sharp dagger. "I'm sure a whore like you would enjoy being a bed-warmer for a nobleman."

The air in the room seemed to drop fifty degrees and Lovino started to tremble. Even he knew it wasn't because of the temperature. "A-are you saying...?"

"Of course I am! I am an expert on women after all. And you, my dear Lovino, would make an excellent toy."

Did he mean...No! Sadiq couldn't mean he was sending off Lovino to be some nobleman's sex toy! "My family will f-find you!" Lovino attempted to threaten, much to Sadiq's amusement.

"Silly boy... or shall I say girl? I already killed off your grandfather, and your brother is next if you don't agree."

Oh no... poor little Feliciano under the clutches of this vile man. Lovino couldn't let that happen! It wasn't right! Though he wouldn't admit it, Lovino would die to protect his younger brother. But this brought him to another crossroad; If Lovino was out of the way, a fate much worse than death could fall upon sweet Feliciano. What would happen to him? Would Sadiq sell him off too?

"Well, I'm waiting." Sadiq reminded impatiently.

"Fine." Lovino was never good at showing humility. Now, it seemed to come naturally. "I-I...I'll do it."

"Excellent!" Sadiq clapped his hands together and started to walk away, but instead, turned to give Lovino one last look of intimidation. "You have a month before you'll be presented. Be prepared or..." He made a slicing motion to his neck with his hand and left the room. Lovino sighed. There was no use now. It was either this, or death. He might as well make the most of it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello again :3 Emil here :3  
> Well anyways, As we can see Lovino's being tortured by Turkey (I'm sorry Turkey lovers). Our interpretation of Turkey or Ottoman Empire is a back-stabbing, cunning idiot who only has eyes for Antonio...not like that. XD


	3. The Thornapple

It was only a few moments before the door opened again. Lovino flinched involuntarily, petrified that his bastard of a cousin might have decided not to let him live after all. But the head – or rather, heads – that peeked through the doorway didn’t belong to Sadiq. Instead he found himself looking up at two young women, one with long, mousy brown hair, and the other with shorter blonde hair. Both had green eyes, and were dressed in clothes too fine to be poor, but too drab to be noble. Servants of a rich man, most likely. Probably Sadiq himself.

“What do you want?” Lovino spat at them, perhaps a bit too harshly. He had yet to get used to the idea that he probably shouldn’t be trying to aggravate anyone in his current situation. Luckily, though, the two women didn’t seem angered by his words.

“Hello, Lovino.” The brown-haired one said. “I’m Elizabeta, and this is Lauren.” She gestured to the blonde, who nodded. “We’re here to help you clean up.”

Lovino arched an eyebrow. Clean up? What did they mean by that? Elizabeta and Lauren came over to his chair and helped him up out of it, each taking one of his arms. “Don’t need your fucking help…” He muttered.

“Oh, yes you do.” Elizabeta said firmly as she walked him to the door, Lauren having dropped his arm in favor of walking on her own beside them. “Don’t deny it. We know what Master Adnan did to you, and you’re lucky you can walk at all.” Lovino was about to snap back at her, but was startled when the door opened, and they came out into field of blinding light. Or, that’s what it felt like. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, having been in the dark too long before. Elizabeta and Lauren let him take a moment to get used to the light, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw that they were in a lush courtyard. Flowers grew amongst carefully pruned shrubbery, and there was a fountain in the middle with birds bathing peacefully. What kind of sick bastard tortures people next to a place like this?! Lovino wondered.

“Where was I then, the shed!?” He asked aloud.

“Yes, actually.” Lauren said, quite matter-of-factly, before they started moving again. With Lovino weighing Elizabeta down, they were really only able to walk at an awkward, shuffling pace. So it took them a good five minutes before they were able to make their way inside the house (which was more like a mansion, from Lovino’s point of view) and to the door the two were apparently looking for. Lauren reached forward and opened the door, and they walked in to reveal a simple bedroom. There was a bed at one wall, with a chest at its foot, and a fireplace in the opposite wall. In the middle of the room was a large, wooden tub filled with water. They meant for him to bathe? For vicious kidnappers, they sure knew how to treat a guest. Elizabeta released Lovino’s arm, and he was relieved to see he could, actually, stand on his own. “You can get undressed now.” Lauren said. It took a moment for Lovino to realize what they were asking.

“W-wait, you mean in front of you?!” He exclaimed incredulously. The blonde nodded. “Hell the fuck no!” He yelled. “I’m not stripping in front of anyone, l-let alone two girls! Get out!”

Elizabeta sighed. “I’m sorry, but Master Adnan told us not to let you out of our sight. I promise we won’t try anything, but you need to get clean.” Lovino looked down at himself, and saw that she was probably right. He was dirty from the previous chase, and bloodied from Sadiq’s treatment. But he didn’t want to undress in front of these two, dammit! As extremely un-manly as it was, Lovino was actually a very shy person.

“Look, Lovino.” Lauren said. “If you don’t clean off soon, the wounds will start to fester. You need to do this for your own health.” 

Lovino worried at the inside of his cheek with his teeth as he listened to the appeal. Get undressed in front of two servant girls, or die a slow, gangrenous death? As much as he hated it, it was an easy choice. He grumbled as he began to strip off one article of clothing at a time, while the two women turned away respectively. His clothes were in tatters anyway from his ordeal, which was really a pity, since they had been some of his favorites. Once the last bit of fabric dropped, he stepped into the bath and sank down into the mercifully warm water. He had half-expected it to be frigid, but it looked like even if Sadiq was a cruel bastard, at least his servants weren’t.

“Are you ready?” Elizabeta asked, her back still turned.

Lovino nodded, but then remembered that she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, whatever.” He said. The two women immediately stood, Lauren fetching a bar of soap and two washcloths from the mantle. Lovino blushed uncontrollably as they both knelt down beside him and began to clean him thoroughly, head to toe, taking great care to avoid his… ahem, vital regions. 

“I’m so sorry about this.” Lauren said softly as she scrubbed his back.

“Like hell you are.” Lovino growled. “If you were, then why would you be doing what that bastard says?”

Lauren hesitated a moment, then gave a sigh of resignation. “Elizabeta and I both have families outside of Italy.” She said. “They are very poor, but Master Adnan promises to send them money each month if we do what he asks.” She was quiet for another moment before continuing. “We never hurt anyone ourselves. We just… don’t ask questions.”

Lovino almost spat back an insult, but something struck him. “Wait, you mean he’s done this kind of thing more than once!?” He asked, disturbing the water as he turned to face the blonde. He had to turn back, though, as it was Elizabeta who spoke this time.

“Master Adnan does what it takes to get what he wants. That’s all I can say.” She said, sending a warning look Lauren’s way. “You can stand now.” She said to Lovino. Lovino obliged, doing his best to cover himself with both hands until he was handed a towel to dry himself with. As he scrubbed away at his damp skin, he noticed the two others digging around in the aforementioned chest, pulling out what looked like clothing. He smirked when he recognized it as Vargas fabric. But something was wrong about the clothing; it didn’t look quite right. Suddenly, he realized just what was going on.

“What the fuck!?” He shouted, wrapping the towel around himself before going to examine the clothing closer, digging around in the chest himself. He was right; it was women’s clothing, all of it. What, did they expect him to- and then it hit him. Sadiq had said he would be shipped off to a nobleman. A nobleman he said was looking for a wife. Somehow, he hadn’t really thought about that sentence until now. Was he meant to just pretend? Sadiq had to be some kind of idiot if he thought that would work. Oh sure, maybe in the beginning, but sooner or later this mystery man would want… well, you know. And Lovino would be screwed. Sadiq was crazier than he had thought. “Do you really expect me to get dressed up in this!?” Lovino yelled.

“I’m sorry, but yes.” Elizabeta replied. “Really, it would be a lot easier on all of us if you just cooperated.”

“Well, no! Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going along with this!” Only seconds after the sentence had left his mouth, he had another realization. It was like a lead brick had just slammed into his chest. Of course he was going to do this. He had to, for Feliciano. Images of his poor, airheaded baby brother lying on the ground in puddles of blood began to flash through his mind, making him shudder. A warrior he was not, but he also wasn’t a coward.

“Lovino?” Lauren said tentatively, reaching a hand out to comfort him.

“What!?” Lovino shouted, whipping his head toward her. It was then he realized he was crying. “F-fuck.” He muttered, wiping the corners of his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Fine.” He said. “Just, just fine. Go ahead, dress me up, I don’t care. But I won’t like it.” The others both sighed in relief, and went to picking out the clothing as Lovino watched nervously. It really couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Oh, how wrong could a man be?

“Just a few more moments!” Lauren reassured him as she watched from the side. “It’s almost over!”

“T-try saying that when your insides are being crushed to death, god d-dammit!” Lovino stuttered angrily. His forearms were rested against the wall, his teeth clenched as Elizabeta, being the stronger of the two, worked to pull his corset tightly around his middle. He thought, perhaps, that this was the last thing they should be doing when he was still injured. But the two seemed determined to get it over with.

“Aaand, done!” Elizabeta said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Lovino stood stiffly, and tried to take in a gasp of air. He was barely able, though, and had to settle for shallower breaths. To think, there were women who wore these sorts of things all the time! He would never understand females, as long as he lived. “Alright, that’s the hard part done.” Elizabeta said. “It’ll only get easier from here.”

“Hooray.” Lovino said dryly. He was, actually, quite relieved when the most difficult bit after the corset was sitting still while the others brushed his hair. He didn’t know whether he was glad or not that he tended to keep it long. When he finally had the outfit on, the two women stepped back with clasped hands, looking proudly over their work. Lovino had been put in a red dress, with a darker red overdress over it. The overdress had a long hem, cinched at the waist so that it folded attractively all down his body. The sleeves were long and loose, with cinches above and below his elbows to create a decorative puff. The neckline was higher than was fashionable, to hide his lack of a bust, and the madwomen (for Lovino was sure that was what they were) had expertly stuffed cloth down the front of the dress to make it look like he had breasts. There was a pearl necklace clasped around his neck, with gold joints and a single ruby in the center, and his hair was kept down and reached to just brush his shoulders, with a simple woven circlet placed around his head, though his curl stayed where it always was. (That was the one thing he wouldn’t let them touch. They had been confused, but at least respected his wishes and worked around it.) It would be done up in braids after he was married. He tried hard not to think about that part.

“Ooh, he looks perfect!” Elizabeta gushed, her eyes bright as she looked Lovino over.

Lauren nodded enthusiastically. “Lovino, you make such a beautiful young woman!”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” Lovino growled. 

They ignored him, of course. “Of course, next will come training.” Lauren said.

Lovino’s eyes snapped open. “Training?” He repeated. “What training?”

“We can’t just put you in a dress and expect you to be able to function as a woman, now can we?” Lauren explained. “You’ve been living as a man all your life. You’ll need to learn how to walk like a woman, talk like a woman, everything.” A sense of dread began to overtake Lovino. So this is why Sadiq had given him an entire month to get ready… but was he really supposed to spend all of it learning how to act female? “First lesson.” Lauren said, interrupting his train of thought. “Your name is now Rosella.”

Yup; this was going to be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! It’s Cosantoir here! This chapter was my doing, as you might know already. Yeah… see that huge paragraph dedicated to Lovino’s outfit? That’s how you can tell it’s me. I kind of have a thing about clothes, especially putting guys in feminine clothing. I love messing around with gender norms. Which is one reason why, when Emil started talking about putting Lovino in a dress, I was so on board. I may have squealed a little. But only in my head, I promise!


	4. The Azaela

Lovino woke the next morning to the sun in his eyes. He yawned leisurely, stretching his hands out to the sides. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room, wondering why he hadn’t been woken by his idiot brother jumping on him, as per the routine. And suddenly it all came flooding back to him; the entire previous day, the beating, the dress, everything. He grimaced as he thought of the day that awaited him. 

“Hello?” He turned to the door to see Lauren and Elizabeta poking their heads in. “Oh, good!” Elizabeta said. “You’re awake.” They walked into his room, apparently not needing an invitation.

“Get the fuck out of my room, it’s too early for this.” Lovino grumbled.

Elizabeta tsked, waving a finger at him. “A young lady shouldn’t speak in that manner, you know.” She chastised.

Lovino gritted his teeth. “This young lady will speak however she damn well pleases!” He ground out harshly. 

Elizabeta just sighed. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, huh?” She remarked to Lauren, who nodded. “Come on then, Rosella, you’ll need an early start on the day if you want to fit in all your lessons.” 

“My name is not Rosella.” Lovino grumbled as he stood, looking grudgingly down at the girly white nightgown they had stuck him in. After their little dress-up session the previous day, it had been all of two hours before it was time to get back out of the dress and go to bed. Luckily for Lovino they had gone easy on him those two hours, allowing him to take time to settle in and eat a meal before they had to redo the whole process in reverse.

“It is now.” Lauren said firmly. “And I’m really sorry, but you’re going to have to get used to it. Now then, let’s get started.” The next hour consisted of them struggling to get him back into the same outfit as yesterday. So far the corset was no more comfortable than it had ever been, though Lauren assured him it would get better with time. They allowed him to eat his breakfast in his chambers, and then were out the door, all three of them, walking through the halls. Literally; just walking.

“Your first lesson of the day,” Elizabeta said when they left the room. “Is how to walk. Walk down that hallway for me, so I can see what we have to work with.” Lovino did, taking only a single step before he tripped on the ridiculously high shoes, cursing as he went down.

“What the fuck is with these things!?” He yelled as the others helped him up.

“Language!” Lauren chastised. “And they’re to make sure the ground doesn’t muddy your dress.”

“What’s the point in that if I fall every time I try to walk in them!?” Lovino shouted.

“You just have to learn how to walk correctly.” Lauren said. “You need to take smaller steps. And try not to bounce so much while you walk.” They let go of his arms again, and Elizabeta gestured for him to go on, looking at him expectantly. Lovino clenched his teeth, and his fists, and began to walk forward. He focused on making each step both small and deliberate, and was able to make it down the hall and back while stumbling only once.

“That’s wonderful!” Lauren praised him, a smile on her face. “You don’t exactly look ladylike, but at least you aren’t falling. Try it again, and this time maybe don’t clench your fists so tight. It’s unbecoming.” Lovino seriously considered punching her in the face with one of those fists, but thought better of it, and set off down the hallways once more. 

“Is there a point to this?” He asked grumpily as he marched up and down the hall. “Can’t I just wear normal shoes, anyway? It’s not like anyone will notice.”

“Oh, yes they will.” Elizabeta said. “Haven’t you ever noticed how differently men and women walk? Anyone would be able to tell if you weren’t walking like a proper woman, no matter if they could see your shoes or not. And straighten your back, you look entirely sullen.” By the time they told him he could stop, Lovino’s ankles were immensely sore, and he was glad to take a rest. It didn’t last long, though. “Alright.” Elizabeta announced, once Lovino had been sitting in his chair for what she apparently deemed the appropriate amount of time. “Now that you’ve had time to rest, let’s start on the next lesson.”

“Next lesson?” Lovino questioned as the brunette helped him up out of his chair. “What, you mean there’s more? What the hell is next, then?”

“Dancing.” Elizabeta said, smiling.

“What.” Lovino said dryly, more of a statement than a question. If they thought he was going to be dancing in these shoes, with his ankles already feeling like hell, they had another thing coming. “Ohh, no.” He said, even as he was being led down the hall by the two women. “I am not dancing when my ankles are already basically obsolete!” 

Elizabeta looked skeptically down at Lovino’s feet, then back up. “They look just fine to me. Now come on.” They led him through the hallways until they got to another door. When Lauren opened it, Lovino was greeted by the sight of a large drawing room, with the furniture pushed to the site. It figured, anyway; the house was impressive, but not fancy enough to have its own ballroom. To the side of the room was a piano, with one man leaning against it, and another sitting on the bench in front. The man leaning against the piano had a funny look to him. His hair was white, and his eyes red, making him look like some kind of demon. He was dressed in a manner that told Lovino that, while he wasn’t poor, he wasn’t one for frivolities. The man at the bench, however, was a different story. His hair was brown, and his eyes, which were violet, were hid behind a pair of silver spectacles. He was wearing a deep blue suit, with a white dress shirt underneath, and a frilly white jabot sticking out from his collar. He turned when he heard them come in.

“Ah, Elizabeta. I see you brought Ms. Rosella?” He remarked. Lovino growled slightly at being called ‘Ms. Rosella’. 

“Well, it’s about time!” The other man grinned wildly as he practically hopped away from the piano and toward the two women, in particular Elizabeta. “This asshole was trying to bore the awesome me to death! He would have succeeded, too, if you hadn’t rescued me!” He complained dramatically with a German accent to his words, gesturing to indicate the man at the piano, who frowned at the insult.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She said, in a tone that told Lovino she had done this many times before. “A little culture couldn’t hurt you. Now then.” She stepped aside, revealing Lovino, who had been standing behind her. “This is Rosella. Rosella, this is Gilbert,” She gestured to the grinning man in front of them. “And Roderich.” She gestured then to the man at the piano.

“Ahem.” Roderich coughed in an effort to get everyone’s attention. “If you would like to get started now?” He said.

“Oh!” Elizabeta said. “Yes, of course. Rosella, we’re going to teach you a few basic court dances. Roderich?” At his name, Roderich began to play an upbeat tune on the piano. Lovino glanced around nervously, completely unsure what to do. 

“Wh-what do I…”

Elizabeta smiled warmly. “Don’t worry,” She said. “We’ll take it step by step.” The dance was a simple one. They started out in a circle, stepped in, then out, then in, walked in this direction, then that. It was actually… kind of enjoyable. Not that Lovino would admit it, oh no. He had been worried at first that he’d have to hold hands with someone, but it looked like all they would be doing that day were group dances, and even if they did end up needing partners, they had too few people to do that type of dance anyway.

When they were finally done dancing, Lovino collapsed on one of the sofas that had been pushed to the side, his legs sprawled out in a very unladylike manner. He heard a snicker from beside him, and looked up to see Gilbert, trying and failing to hold his laughter in.

“What the fuck is so funny!?” Lovino asked angrily. 

Lauren rushed over before Gilbert could say anything smart. “Um, Rosella? Maybe let’s work on how you sit.” She said gently. Lovino flushed as she went about helping him rearrange himself on the couch, until he was sitting with his back straight, his hands in his lap, and his ankles crossed just so.

“This is not comfortable.” He grumbled.

“You’ll get used to it.” Lauren said. Funny… that’s what they had said about everything else so far. He’d get used to wearing a corset, he’d get used to walking like a lady, he’d get used to being called Rosella. But how long would he have to do this? Would he just have to live his entire life as a woman? Of course, there was still the aforementioned problem of whatever nobleman he was to be married off to finding out about his little – or, not so little – lie.

“So.” He felt the couch dip as Gilbert sat down next to him. He was really starting to get sick of this guy. “How bad does it suck?”

“What do you think?” Lovino grumbled. “Just wait until you’ve had to put on a corset.”

Gilbert laughed. “Aw hell, that must’ve been torture! Though…” He leaned in a bit closer. “If it makes you feel any better, you do make a fine woman.” Lovino’s eyes turned to fire as he pulled his hand back and slapped the man across the face, relishing the stunned look in his eyes. Instead of staying on the couch, he opted to stand and walk away with a dignified huff, figuring he’d be safer among the girls and their pianist friend. The others were staring at him as he walked over, and it seemed it was Roderich’s turn to try his very hardest to hold back laughter, his shoulders wavering as he hunched awkwardly over the piano.

“He was being perverted.” Lovino said, and left the matter.

“Rosella, you were wonderful during the dance!” Elizabeta remarked. Lovino noticed as she spoke that she was holding Roderich’s hand, and the two were stroking each other’s fingers. Well, he’d have to store that information for later then.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lovino said dismissively. “Just don’t expect me to do it again.”

“Oh, Rosella.” Lauren said, pity in her tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to practice every day.”

“Every day?! You’ve gotta be kidding me!!” Lovino yelled. Sure it was a little fun, but his feet were undeniably sore, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with the idiot albino every single day. 

“We only have one month to get you ready.” Lauren explained. “You’ll need all the practice you can get.”

“Maybe you can start by teaching her not to slap someone every time she gets a fucking compliment?” They turned to see Gilbert, standing over them and rubbing his sore cheek.

“Perhaps they can teach you how to give compliments in the first place.” Roderich said dryly.

“Ah, go to hell old man.” 

Roderich frowned at this. “Gilbert, you’re older than I am.”

“So?”

“Okay you two, break it up.” Elizabeta said firmly, sending glares the way of the albino. She turned to Roderich. “We’ll be going now, dear. Thank you for the beautiful music.” She leaned down, and the two shared a chaste kiss before she, Lauren and Lovino exited the room.

“So.” Lovino said when they were out of the room, walking down the halls once more. He found himself stumbling over his own feet less and less, which he felt pretty proud about, actually. “You and that Roderich guy?” He directed the question at Elizabeta, who immediately began to smile with her hand held modestly to her cheek.

“We’re engaged to be married, actually.” She said. Somehow Lovino thought he should have been surprised, but really wasn’t at all. They seemed like the kind of people who would complement each other in their differences, like adding salt to something sweet to make the flavor stand out. Of course, what actually came out of his mouth was a little less… eloquent.

“Oh.” He said. “Well… good luck, I guess.” This seemed to be enough for Elizabeta, however, as it was probably the nicest thing Lovino had said to her since they had met.

“Oh, thank you!” She said, smiling even wider now. “That’s so kind of you!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it.” Lovino said, forcing the frown back on his face. He couldn’t let her think he was warming up to them, after all. It wouldn’t do to forget who they were working for. The three soon made their way back to Lovino’s chambers and ate their midday meal together, before starting on the next lesson.

“What is it this time?” Lovino said when Lauren stood from her seat, his voice still abrasive but now betraying more resignation than anything else. The blonde left the room for but a minute, before coming back in with a basket in her hand. She set it down so the others could see the contents.

“We’re going to teach you how to embroider.” She said matter-of-factly, as she began to pull out the hoops, the thread and the needles. This… this was ridiculous. This was the girliest activity on the face of the Earth. Lovino had his pride, if nothing else! Of course, he then remembered that he was currently wearing a dress, and thought better of complaining.

…Too much. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Embroidery?” He said, one eyebrow arched high in the air. “This is for girls! There is no way I’m doing this!”

Lauren gave a long-suffering sigh and plopped the fabric, thread and everything else into Lovino’s lap. “Yes, Rosella, and you’re a girl now. Which means you need to learn this type of thing. I’m sorry, I really am, but you have no choice.”

At this point, Lovino could have begun yelling and cursing and made a huge fuss. He could have been his usual, difficult self, but he just didn’t have the energy. He had been kidnapped and beaten and stuffed into a corset and made to do demeaning (to him, anyway) things while others watched, and he just didn’t have it in him anymore. So he just took the hoop and the needle in hand, and asked what he was supposed to be doing. That was it; they had broken the mighty Lovino. Someone should give them an award. If Elizabeta and Lauren noticed Lovino’s change in demeanor, they didn’t say anything. They just sat beside him with their own little projects, giving him tips and pointers as he clumsily tried to embroider something that bore at least minimal resemblance to a flower.  
“OW! Fuck!” He swore loudly when he first pricked himself, sucking his finger with a hurt look on his face. When he looked to the others, he could have sworn they were trying not to laugh.

“Don’t worry.” Elizabeta said reassuringly. “It happens to all of us the first time. It’ll probably happen a lot more, so steel your fingers.” 

Lovino just grumbled and returned to his task. They continued like that for hours, until the sun began to set beneath the horizon. The whole thing felt suspiciously like drawing, which he had never been good at. Not as good as Feli, anyway. Yeah, he could draw simple dogs or cats, and sometimes even people, but his brother was the artist. It would be lying to say that he wasn’t a bit jealous. After all, what else could come of having a younger brother who everyone loved, who everyone praised, who everyone cooed over? He sometimes found himself resenting the young boy, even if just a bit. Really though, Feliciano was family. And on top of that, he was such an airhead that Lovino had known from the little one’s first step (which would have sent him over the edge of a balcony, had Lovino not been there) that he had to protect him, no matter how aggravating he could be. Family before all else. It was an unwritten rule, written in some cases. Which is one reason it made him sick to think of the horrible things Sadiq was doing. The only memories he really had of his half-Ottoman cousin were of the sporadic visits the two sides of the families sometimes had as they were growing up. Sadiq had always been so nice on the outside, but inside was a different story. He would get along with the Vargas brothers as long as the adults were watching, but as soon as their parents turned their backs, he’d become a monster. Lovino almost chuckled at the thought that nothing had really changed since then.

“Hey.” He said aloud, as something had occurred to him. 

Lauren looked up from her embroidery, an ornate depiction of a daisy. “Yes?” She answered.

“This is Sadiq’s house, right?” Lauren nodded. “So… where is he?”

Lauren immediately turned her gaze away. “He’s, um, at his other house.”

This didn’t sound good. “His other house where?” Lovino practically ground out.

“He just said he was staying with family. That’s all.”

Feliciano. Lovino gripped the hoop tighter until his hands began to hurt, his teeth clenched in an effort not to let tears begin to fall. Even now they were welling in his eyes at the thought of his little brother in danger. It’s okay, he thought to himself. As long as I do what that bastard cousin of mine says, I’ll be fine. It’s okay. It’s okay. He repeated the phrase in his head like a mantra. But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay, and he knew it. There had to be something he could have done differently… some way this all could have been avoided. He just knew that, somehow, this all had to be his fault. Stupid, incompetent-

“Lovino!” He snapped out of his train of thought and looked up, to see Elizabeta and Lauren both standing over him, with worried looks in their eyes. In the back of his mind, he realized they had been calling ‘Rosella’ for quite some time. They must have figured ‘Lovino’ might work better. “Rosella,” Lauren continued, shifting back to that horrid, girlish name. “I think it’s about time for bed, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Lovino answered. He lifted his hand to his face to check for tears, and scowled when the hand came back wet. He wiped them off on his sleeve as Lauren and Elizabeta put away the embroidery things. They helped him out of his clothing, leaving at his request as soon as the dress was off and the nightgown on.

“Goodnight, Rosella.” Elizabeta said gently as they slipped out of the room. Lovino didn’t bother to reply, and slipped under the covers as soon as the door was shut, blowing out the candle on the nightstand. In the dark, alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help his mind from racing through all the horrible things that had happened to him, all the horrible things that might be waiting for him. And so, petrified and alone, he slipped into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cosantoir, here. Okay... so there was a bit of a crisis with this chapter and the one after it. But everything's resolved, and you can read as normal, folks!  
> Anyway, yeah. This chapter was mine. :3 This and the chapter before it were originally one big chapter, but it had gotten waaay too long, so I split it.


	5. The Asparagus

Antonio had never been a man to buy into the whole “True Love” thing. He would flirt and mingle until the sun went down, but he had never given much thought to anything long-term. Which was the reason why, by the time he realized he would need an heir, he was already well into his twenties. As a man of twenty seven, it was only when his mother was dead and his father was on his way out that he realized he was the only one left of his family. The Carriedo name, prestigious and well-known in both Spain and Italy, was one that couldn’t afford to end. Not now, when they had so much to gain from the country’s economic boom. But even worse than the idea of marriage was the idea of marrying someone he didn’t know. Sure, Sadiq had ensured him that this “Rosella” girl was beautiful and perfectly suited for him, but how much could he really know about a girl he’d never even met?

But still, he needed an heir. So when Sadiq had offered him a way out of the tedious process of searching for a bride, he’d jumped at the chance. And almost as suddenly as the suggestion had come up, the proceedings were underway. It seemed like the days were passing quicker than usual, as the impalmamento was already over and done with. The purpose of the impalmamento, the first step in the Italian wedding process, was to seal the marriage contract between the two families. It had been an odd one, though; normally the parents, along with three or four other family members, would be making the arrangements. But as Antonio had none of the sort, and according to Sadiq neither did Rosella, it had only been him and Sadiq, (seeing as him and Rosella were apparently cousins, something he had neglected to mention) accompanied by a few officials to document the agreement. Antonio had gone to their house already, bringing the traditional presents for his betrothed and her family, but he had yet to actually meet Rosella. So he was actually quite excited, and more than a little bit curious when the time came for the courting at the window.

The courting at the window was a tradition in Italian marriage. He was to arrive at Rosella’s home, and speak to her through a window. She would give him a small token, and he had brought a few gifts he thought she might appreciate. The idea was that he could decide if he really wanted to marry the girl before the ceremonies began, but it was more a formality than anything else. And besides, what could he really decide from a single meeting through a window?

He stood beneath the window now, waiting for Rosella to appear. The home belonged to Sadiq, and he could tell just from the outside that the family definitely wasn’t noble. Do understand, it wasn’t as if he would look down on them just because of their standing. Well, maybe just a little, but he could just tell; the house was only moderately large, and adorned on the outside with plants picked specially not to need much maintenance, making sure the family could make do with only one or two gardeners. Someone of his social stature really ought to be marrying someone a bit higher up in the pecking order… he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Suddenly, he heard a noise from above. He glanced up to see the shutters being opened, and a girl appeared in the window. Antonio’s jaw dropped; she was beautiful. Her hair, which was an exquisite shade of chestnut, fell down to her shoulders to frame her perfect, youthful face, with a single curl bobbing on the side of her head. Her eyes were colored emerald green, like his own, and shined with such a lavish color it took his breath straight away. She stood primly, with her chin tilted up in a defiant manner and her brow furrowed disapprovingly, as if daring him to disrespect her, to do a single thing she might disapprove of.

That was the moment Antonio fell in love; hard. 

He must have been staring with his mouth open for too long, because Rosella took it upon herself to break him out of his stupor. “So, you’re Antonio?” She said with a hint of disdain in her voice.

“Yes, I am.” Antonio replied. “And you’re Rosella?” 

She seemed to flinch ever-so slightly at the use of her name, but replied all the same; “Y-yeah, that’s me.” Her words, though casual on the surface, sounded forced; insincere, even. “So, um…” Rosella said. “You’re going to be my husband?”

“Does that bother you?” Antonio asked.

The girl blushed and looked away, seeming decidedly less confident as the conversation wore on. “N-no! Why would it bother me?” 

“Ah, don’t worry. I understand if you don’t want to marry someone you just met.” Antonio said. Somehow, he felt the strangest urge to comfort the girl. Any other noble might have simply disregarded her feelings, and went into the marriage whether she was happy or not. But he found himself wanting to be the exception. “How about we get to know each other then, hm?”

Rosella furrowed her brow once again. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Well, how about you start with telling me about yourself? What do you like to do?”

Rosella coughed nervously, her eyes shifting as she attempted to come up with an answer. “Um, well, I like embroidery…” Once again, she sounded as if she was practically forcing the words out of her mouth. This wouldn’t do. Antonio wanted this angel, this precious rose, to be comfortable around him. To be able to talk to her heart’s content. Funny what a single glance can do to a man.

“Really?” He said, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward questioningly. “Are you sure?”

She coughed again. “Well, um, I… I like to cook.” She finally said.

Antonio immediately brightened. “Really?” He said. Finally, something that sounded like an honest answer.

“Yeah, but I’m no good at it… I mean, my br- my friends,” She corrected herself midsentence. “Are always better than I am.”

“Nonsense!” Antonio dismissed the statement. “I’m sure your cooking is lovely!”

Rosella looked at the ground. “You don’t have to humor me like that…”

“I’m not, not at all! You should be better to yourself, mia bella rosa.”

That seemed to set something off. Rosella immediately snapped up to face him, her face as red as a strawberry. “What the fuck did you just call me!?” She demanded.

Antonio was shocked. Such language from a young lady! It was rude, vulgar, improper… so why did he find it so endearing? His smile immediately grew wider, and he laughed. “Ahahaha, you don’t like it?” He asked, rubbing the back of his head. “I think it suits you. Beautiful rose… that’s what you look like, you know.”

Rosella’s face grew redder with each word. She huffed and looked away dramatically. “W-well, what do you know, anyway? Bastard…” This just made Antonio laugh again. She was unlike any girl he had ever met, especially once he had gotten her out of her shell. So feisty! 

“Tell me then, Rosella, what else do you like to do?” He asked, desperate to learn more about her.

She seemed to mull this over for a minute. Whether she was trying to think of an answer or deciding if she should answer at all, Antonio had no idea. But finally she replied; “I do like dancing…”

“Ah! So do I! What sorts of dances do you like, then?” 

Rosella seemed flustered at this. “Um, well, th-there’s this one where you just sort of go in and out in a circle, and then you… you spin.” Antonio had to bite back a chuckle. She was so… cute! How could one girl be so many things all in one? She obviously didn’t know the names of any of the dances. He was about to try to help her out when her eyebrow’s shot up, seemingly in realization of something. “O-oh yeah!” She said, fumbling around with something to the side. “I was supposed to give you this.” She lifted into view a white handkerchief, embroidered with an intricate flower pattern.

“Did you do this yourself?” Antonio asked.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. “No…” She finally admitted. 

“You said you liked embroidery, though?” Antonio said, a mischievous smile coming to his face.

“Sh-shut up!” Rosella immediately protested. “I can embroider, I just- argh!” She threw the handkerchief to the ground in frustration. 

“You can?” Antonio asked.

Rosella looked at him, eyebrows creased again. “Can what?”

“Embroider.” Antonio clarified.

“Um… well yeah, I-”

“Can I see something you’ve done, then?”

“N-no way!” She said indignantly. “Why should I show you anything? Besides, you’ll only make fun of me!”

Antonio pursed his bottom lip out just a bit, folding his eyebrows in the best puppy-dog look he could muster. “Please?” He asked, ever so sweetly.

“B-but! I! Argh!” Rosella growled again, resigning herself to losing the argument. “Fine! You know what? Fine!” She turned from the window for a second, and came back with another handkerchief. “Happy now?” She said as she dropped the piece of cloth in Antonio’s outstretched hand. He brought the kerchief closer to his eye, examining it. This one was embroidered with a single, large, elementary daisy. There were holes in the fabric where you could tell she had had to pull the thread out and start anew, and even the stitches that had made the cut were uneven. Antonio smiled; it was perfect.

“Ah, but this is beautiful, rosa!” He said, making Rosella growl a bit at the pet name. “Like I said, you should be nicer to yourself! Tell me, can I keep this?”

A look of surprise came across Rosella’s face. “Wait, you mean you actually want it?” She asked. 

Antonio nodded. “Of course, if you’ll let me have it.” She silently nodded her consent, and Antonio tucked it safely away into his leather pouch. “Oh! That reminds me.” He said, digging back into the pouch. “I have something for you.” He pulled his hand out of the pouch and brought forth a necklace, strung all along with alternating amethyst beads and gold pieces, with a ruby pendant hanging from the center.

Rosella’s eyes widened. “B-but!” She protested as the necklace was lowered into her hand. “But this is too expensive! What the hell were you thinking, I can’t take this!”

Antonio chuckled. “Of course you can! I have money to spare, especially for one as lovely as you, bella rosa. Oh, and another thing.” He dug back into the pouch, retrieving from it his second gift of choice; a big, juicy, red tomato.

“A tomato.” Rosella said dryly. 

“Yes, it is. Try it.” He handed her the fruit, and she held it skeptically up to her eyes, scrutinizing it carefully. “Go on!” Antonio prompted. 

After a moment more of consideration, she finally took a bite. Her eyes immediately widened in surprise. “Holy shit!” She said through the mouthful, juice dribbling down her chin. “This is delicious!” She said when she finally swallowed.

Antonio chuckled. “Ah, Spanish tomatoes are always the best! I thought you’d appreciate it!” He leaned forward to wipe the juice off of her chin, which had been threatening to run onto her dress.

Maybe not the smartest move. “What the hell!?” Rosella snapped, swatting his hand away angrily.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Antonio said, holding his hands up in defense. “It was going to ruin your dress, I was just-”

“You could have just told me, tomato bastard!” She interrupted him, shouting angrily.

Antonio cocked his head. Tomato bastard? Well, how original… “I’m sorry if I was being inappropriate…” He said apologetically. “Ahahaha, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome..” 

“Yeah, yeah you have.” Rosella said harshly. Dejected, Antonio turned away to begin heading home. “B-but!” He turned around when she spoke again, listening intently. She was again blushing, pointedly averting her eyes from Antonio’s. “You can… I mean, don’t stay away forever…”

Antonio grinned like a fool, the smile reaching the edges of his eyes. “Of course not, mia bella rosa!” He said happily, glad he could end their meeting on a happy note, before he walked off of the grounds and back into the cityscape of Venice.

The entire way back to his home, including the gondola ride out of the city, all he could think about was how lucky he was to be about to spend the rest of his life with a girl like her. And what a handful she was bound to be… ah, well; every rose has its thorns. Still, he couldn’t help but feel there was something more about her… something he wasn’t seeing. The stiff way she had spoken when she first met, the way she had to think so hard just to come up with a hobby. Was there something Sadiq wasn’t telling him? He resolved to find out later, and instead occupied himself with the scenery. After all, he had all the time in the world to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Cosantoir here! So, we might have had a slight crisis with this chapter and the one before it, which involved a lot of deleting and reposting and OMG WHAT DO WE DOOO but now it's all good. :)
> 
> Now that that's cleared up... do you guys know how complicated weddings were in Italy during the Renaissance? During the earlier parts of the Renaissance period, they could last for an entire year! So now, thanks to this fic, I have a ridiculous amount of research time logged just on weddings during the Italian Renaissance. Haha, this stuff is educational, you can't tell me it isn't! Anyway… yeah, I had to sneak a tomato in there somewhere. I figure the more canon I can finagle into the plot, the better.


	6. The Peony

He hated to admit it, but Lovino was nervous.

What had he got himself into? If his fucking asthma attack hadn't taken over, maybe he wouldn't have to become some bitch to a damned aristocrat. Did Antonio even know by marrying Lovino he was doing something sacrilegious? Cousin Adnan, or "Sadiq", as he called himself now, didn't seem to care. He just wanted to be on "good terms" with the dumbass.

Another thing he wouldn’t admit even if his life depended on it; Antonio seemed actually quite nice, no matter how much Sadiq had said before.

"Fuck!" Lovino shouted as he stomped his foot on the stone floor.

The two handmaids, Lauren and Elizabeta immediately stopped braiding his hair and glared at him, trying to hide their amusement. "Rosella," Lauren sternly reminded him, "Wives of nobility do not swear.

"I'm not a girl, dammit!” He growled, his fists clenched. 

Elizabeta shot him a warning look. "You are now, and if you don't like it, you can suck balls!"

"And you say girls don't swear." Lovino muttered”

"No silly," Lauren giggled, "Wives don't swear. Lizzy's not married yet!”

"Oh sure. Perfectly good reason."

The girls glared at him until he backed down. Jeez, those two really loved to pick a fight. They had gone easy on him the first few days he was staying in Sadiq’s house, but as the month wore on something changed. Maybe they got more comfortable around him, or maybe they just got tired of his attitude, but either way Elizabeta and Lauren had started to act just as sarcastic as he was. He’d be impressed, if it wasn’t annoying as hell.

"Besides," Elizabeta said in a mockingly elegant fashion, "You are to marry a Count."

"Shut the fuck up." Lovino growled in annoyance. The girls just giggled and continued on with their duties. These girls weren't helping his nervousness... at all.  
Everywhere he looked, there was some reminder that he would be sent off to be the Count's wife/whore/personal slave; the maids fussing over his hair which was soon to be braided and pinned up into something completely ridiculous, the violets and the myrtle growing in the courtyard, the garish cassoni waiting patiently in the corner. In truth, the wedding chest looked lovely... lovely for firewood. Its painting depicted a woman undoing her stitches at the loom, a full moon shining over her; Penelope waiting for her husband to return. Lovino scoffed at the cheesiness of it. Like, really? Sorry, not all wives are that dutiful. He certainly wouldn't be one. As soon as he found him out, Antonio would probably murder him or sell him to the jesters or something. Fun. Fuck you, Cousin Adnan.

Thirty more minutes till the damned wedding.

Twenty minutes.

Ten minutes.

Five.

One.

Lovino sucked in his breath as the notary carefully eyed the couple. Lovino's grandfather knew the man quite well. Would he recognize the trembling "wife" or would he pay no heed and continue on with the service? Why did he even care?! For self-image, he told himself, nothing else... seriously! Cousin Adnan was sitting right there! He could publicly beat the shit out of Lovino if he wanted to!

"Count Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," He said as if he were reciting a passage from the bible, "do you take Rosella Adnan to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Antonio cleared his throat and gently took Lovino's gloved hand. "I take thee, Rosella, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forth. For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. If holy church it would ordain, and thereto I promise thee my love." Lovino bit his lip to keep from snickering. This guy was a hopeless romantic.

"Rosella Lavinia Adnan, do you take Count Antonio Carriedo to do your lawfully wedded husband?"

Oh shit, dammit! This was it...The beginning of the end. "I-I..." Why was he blanking out on the words now? "I-I take thee, A-Antonio...um...to be my wedded husband, to serve and obey from this day forth. For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...till death do us p-part. If the holy church it would ordain, and thereto I promise thee my l-love...?"

"Very good." Antonio whispered in amusement.

"Shut up, fuckass." Lovino shot back. This only served to put a smile on the Spaniard’s face. Antonio was now well acquainted with Lovino's commoner's mouth and had grown to love it, as it seemed. Like now, he didn't chastise her, or maybe it was because he didn't want to ruin the ceremony with harsh yelling. But Lovino was positive he had accepted that part of "her".

Antonio then carefully placed a glistening ring on Lovino's finger, happily mumbling something about "Rosella" being able to eat as many tomatoes as "she" wanted when they were married. Lovino made a face but kept his mouth shut.

Now, he thought, on to the worst part. 

Lovino hated crowds even though he'd practically lived with them all his life. He despised them when he was younger and he especially despised them now. Everywhere he looked, there was someone he or his father knew well, had done business with, etc. And even though he didn't look as much like his grandfather as his brother, he still shared the resemblance. 

How was his brother anyways? Dear god, he prayed silently, I don't want Feliciano to suffer a fate like this... please... watch over him for me... Amen. He felt silly praying telepathically, but hoped God could still hear him.

"Rosella?" Antonio's voice came from Lovino's left. "C'mon! Cheer up! It's supposed to be a merry festival, not someone's funeral."

"I didn't fucking ask you... my lord." He quickly spat.

Antonio laughed and ruffled Lovino's hair. "So demure, aren't you?" He teased.

"Fuck you!" Lovino seethed.

"Well, maybe you'll get your wish tonight if we have time." Antonio whispered seductively.

That thought made Lovino sick to the stomach. Dammit, he should've kept his mouth shut! Oh god, why couldn't he control his tongue in front of that bastard!

Lovino must've had a sour look on his face because Antonio looked concerned. "Mio bella rosa? Are you okay?"

Lovino quickly regained composure and swatted at Antonio. "Stop calling me that, fuckass!"

Antonio just laughed and, forgetting that they were in a public setting, put his arms around her waist, a little too close for comfort. "You're so sweet, aren't you?"

"Fucking bastard, get off of me!" Lovino screeched, pulling away. "Race you to your home!" He challenged, daring Antonio to chase him. Much to his annoyance, Antonio obliged and started to chase him at a lazy pace. The two chased each other for a while, winding in and out of the crowds, not caring what the guests thought. Lovino had to admit it was pretty fun to drop the feminine act and show off a fragment of his tougher side. How unfortunate is was for him that it was only a remnant of his old self.

"Excuse me," an aristocratic voice broke into Lovino's thoughts. "Would you mind watching where you're going, miss?" Was that the voice of Elizabeta's betrothed, Roderich? Startled, Lovino swiveled, tripping over someone's foot and fell into a heap on the hard stone. Immediately, a tingling feeling shot up his right leg. Where the hell was Antonio when he was needed?! "Oh goodness! Are you alright?" The voice came again. Lovino looked up to see a man, maybe in his late twenties, holding out an unhealthily pale hand to him. With his chocolate colored locks and his even darker eyelashes, he seemed more female than male. The only way you could tell a real woman from him was his hair, which was loose, in soft waves around his shoulders. Although his exterior seemed delicate, he seemed to give off an aura of quiet determination and power; his multi-colored eyes searing into Lovino's soul.

Tentatively, Lovino grasped the man's outstretched hand and pulled himself. "Thank you, sir."

The man flashed him a seemingly-forced half-smile. "You’re welcome... my lady." Teasing sarcasm reigned his voice. Oh damn, did this stranger find Lovino out? But how could he know after six freaking seconds?

"Do you have any clue where Antonio went?" Lovino snatched the chance to ask.

"My master is just talking to some friends." The stranger answered calmly, folding his arms across his chest.

"W-wait..." Lovino stuttered, "Your master?" This man didn't seem like a servant, much less a slave. He was too... well spoken...

Lovino received a curt nod in return. "Yes. I believe that makes you my mistress?"

"B-but..."

"Hush. I will see you later, my lady. Perhaps after you've gotten accustomed to your new home. Farewell."

Then the enigma was gone. Lovino took a deep breath and looked down at his cupped hands. An orange, bloodied piece of silk lay on his palm. Where had he seen that fabric, minus the bloodstains, before?

"Mio Bella Rosa?!" Antonio's voice sing-songed from a few paces away.

Panicked, Lovino tucked the scrap of cloth into his wreath. "C-coming, my lord!" He quickly answered, shivering nervously. The entire encounter had left him a bit uneasy. He couldn’t help but be curious about this mysterious man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Chapter 6 is here!  
> This is the entrance of one of the most fun characters I have ever written. Guess who? He's extremely OOC and Kyoya Ootori-like in this fic. I apologize, it's just the way it worked.  
> If you haven't guessed by the description of the poor guy, it will soon be revealed in the next chapter XD  
> By the way, I just started up my own personal fanfic account and soon I'll be posting my own fanfic! It's AEmiliaeHistoriae on FANFICTION!!!!! YAY!  
> ~Emil


	7. The Apple Blossom

Antonio watched his young wife fondly as they stepped into the foyer of his – no, their home. He bit back a chuckle when her jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she surveyed the interior of the house. He couldn’t blame her, really; what else would the house of a Count be but extravagant? The foyer alone was huge, with a large, ornate chandelier hanging from the middle of a tall ceiling, and staircases along either wall which led to the second level.

“Holy shit…” Rosella whispered under her breath. Now, Antonio did laugh. Ever since he had met her in the window, her vulgar speech had become more and more endearing. She was so refreshingly different from all the other women he had met. She spoke her mind and didn’t hold back, unlike most women he knew who had been trained from day one to be seen and not heard. Rosella was truly one in a million, and now she was Antonio’s wife. How had he ever been so lucky? 

“Ah, I’m glad I impress, Rosella!” He said, leaning in close to his wife. He noticed her face getting redder by the minute. So adorably shy! “But this isn’t all!”

“I-it isn’t?” Rosella stuttered nervously.

Antonio shook his head. “Come, I’ll give you the grand tour!” He took her by the hand, and proceeded to lead her throughout the house.

“H-hey! Where the fuck are you taking me?” Rosella protested, though she still walked with him.

Antonio laughed. “You’ll be living here, mio bella rosa! You need to know where everything is! First is the drawing room.” He stopped in front of the door to the drawing room, allowing her to poke her head in. The drawing room, used mainly for entertaining guests, was furnished with many comfortable seats and sofas, and a fireplace was situated in one corner. He pulled Rosella back through the halls, intent on showing her as much as she could of her new home. The home itself was actually relatively new, his family having only come to Italy a few generations ago. Still, it was a point of pride with him that he was the heir of the mansion, no matter how much history it had behind it. He continued his tour, showing Rosella through to the dining room, the kitchen, everywhere he could think of that she’d need to know. After a while, there was only one room of consequence left on the first floor. 

“And this is the library!” He said. He pulled open the grand wooden doors to reveal a large room, packed with bookshelves. Rather expansive for a private library, but Antonio had always considered himself a bit of a scholar.

…Don’t tell anyone, but he’d only ever read the fictional stories. 

“It’s huge!” Rosella marveled at the collection, stepping forward into the room. “How many books are even in here?”

Antonio shrugged. “Five hundred? Nine? I’ve lost count.” A thought struck him, and he cupped his hand around his mouth, shouting; “Toris! Come out here and introduce yourself!” There was a shuffling from the far side of the library, and out from the jungle of books came Toris, his faithful librarian. “Toris, this is my wife, Rosella.” Antonio said, gesturing to Rosella.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mistress.” Toris said, formally as ever. Antonio turned to Rosella, expecting to hear some sort of snarky retort at being called ‘Mistress’. But he was surprised when she offered nothing of the sort.

“Um, y-yeah, you too.” Rosella said, her eyes wide and fixed on the librarian. Antonio frowned. What was so surprising about the young man? He didn’t look all that unusual, with his plain brown hair and painfully practical clothing. 

“Well then,” He said, breaking the awkward silence that had begun to settle in. “I suppose we’ll leave you to your work, eh, Toris?” Toris nodded curtly before disappearing back into his books. Antonio took his wife’s hand back up, leading her out of the library. “What was that?” He asked.

“Hm?’ Rosella turned to him, looking like she had just been brought out of deep thought. “N-nothing, I just… he just looked like someone I know. That’s all.” Antonio nodded, though he was still suspicious. The subject obviously made her uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to do that to her on their first day together. 

“There’s only one room left.” He said, smiling in an effort to get her to do the same.

Rosella raised an eyebrow. “Which is?” She asked. Antonio just smiled wider and pulled her eagerly back to the foyer, leading her up the stairs. He opened the door to his bedroom and led her inside, closing the door behind them. 

“What are you doing?” Rosella asked, beginning to sound nervous. Antonio smiled fondly. The poor dear was so young and innocent… he’d have to be gentle. He guided her down onto the bed, her eyes growing wide as she realized what was about to happen.

“Ah, Rosella. Mio bella rosa. I cannot wait to start a family with you.” Antonio said sweetly, framing her cheek with his hand and leaning down to kiss her.

“NO!” Rosella shouted, pushing him off of her with such force that he was thrown off the bed and landed on the floor, pain shooting up through his rear end. “Y-you fucking b-bastard! W-what were you- n-no!” She began to stutter, and Antonio watched in horror as tears came to the corners of her eyes. Oh no… what had he done? To think he had hurt his little rosa… 

“Rosella, what’s wrong?” He said, picking himself up off the ground and going to comfort his crying wife. She moved away from him on the bed, averting her eyes toward the ground. “Querida, I promise I won’t hurt you. You can trust me.”

“L-like hell I can.” Rosella said, sniffling. Antonio moved to put his hand on her shoulder but she jerked violently away from his touch, glaring up at him with a clenched teeth. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” She shouted angrily. 

Antonio gulped, backing away from the bed. “I’m so sorry, Rosella.” He said. “I promise, I won’t do anything without your consent.”

Rosella looked skeptically at the noble. “Th-that’s bullshit and you kn-know it…” She said.

“On my parents’ graves.” Antonio said, one hand over his heart. He had to make her believe that he meant no harm, that he only wanted to see her happy. If only he hadn’t tried to force himself on her like an idiot… 

He was immensely relieved when he saw Rosella’s face soften. “Fine… okay then.” She said. She still had an accusing look in her eyes, but at least now Antonio didn’t feel as if he would burn if he stayed in her gaze too long.

“Do you want to sleep in a different room tonight?” He asked, sincerely hoping her answer would be no.

Rosella huffed, annoyed. “I g-guess I can sleep with you, tomato bastard.” She said reluctantly. “But no funny business!” She pointed her finger harshly toward the Spaniard. 

Despite the addendum, Antonio’s face positively lit up with joy. “Wonderful!” He said, clasping his hands together in delight. “Ah, but we still have the evening meal to eat! Would you join me, fair lady?” He said, holding out his hand for her to take.

“Fine… stupid, romantic bastard.” Rosella grumbled at the gesture, but still took his hand and allowed herself to be led downstairs to the dining room. Antonio was glad beyond compare that she’d been so quick to forgive; when she was in a bad mood Rosella was terrifying, but it seemed that her moods were as fleeting as they were frequent. He was just happy he hadn’t done anything to hurt to poor thing. He had to remind himself that she was still young, and had to be treated delicately. They arrived in the dining room, a grand room with a table meant to seat banquets, not couples. He went to pull Rosella’s chair out, but she smacked his hand away before seating herself.

“Ah, Master Carriedo!” A French-accented voice came from the kitchen nearby. They both turned to see a man with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes practically waltzing into the room, carrying a platter in each hand. “This is the new wife I’ve been hearing about then, hm?” He smiled as he put down Rosella’s plate, his cheek far too close to her own, causing the girl to scowl and lean away from him.

“Fuck off, bastard frog.” Antonio burst into laughter at the face the Frenchman made, confused at having been insulted by such an innocent looking girl.

“Rosella, this is Francis Bonnefois, my chef.” Antonio said, gesturing toward the man. Francis had been his chef for many years, and his friend for decades more. His father, Bernard Bonnefois, had been the family chef back in the day. Having no wife, Antonio’s parents allowed Bernard’s son to stay at the Carriedo estate, and Francis and Antonio ended up as the best of friends since they were very young. When Francis’s father finally succumbed to old age, the Carriedos asked him to take up the position, and he’d been their chef ever since. “Francis, what are you doing out here?” Antonio asked. “Normally you have the servants bring the food out.”

Francis smiled. “Oui, but I was so curious about the new Madame Carriedo I ‘ad to see for myself! And my I say, you have caught yourself a fine one, Master Carriedo. Quite the firecracker, non?” 

Rosella made a disgusted face, preparing to insult him, but Antonio quickly cut her off. “Francis, do you have an ounce of class?” He asked, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

Francis grinned. “Ah, I only try to appreciate beauty when I see it! I’ll just leave you two alone, then.” He bowed with a dramatic flourish of his hand, and left the room. 

Rosella turned to her husband, her eyebrow raised. “What the fuck was with that guy?”

Antonio laughed. “Ah, Francis has been a good friend for many years, but he’s… well, he’s a bit of a flirt. God knows I can barely keep him off of myself at times.”

Rosella’s eyes widened, her cheeks beginning to tint with red. “Wait, what!? But… but you’re both men?”

“It doesn’t matter much to him.” Antonio said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “He doesn’t distinguish between men and women, as long as they’re attractive.” He sighed exasperatedly. 

“B-but what about you?” Rosella said. “You said he- you don’t let him, do you?”

Antonio faltered. That… that was something he didn’t want to talk about, not now, and especially not with his new wife. “Oh, well, what do you think, querida? Anyway, we wouldn’t want the food to go cold.” He said, giving a purposefully vague answer and changing the subject as quickly as he could. Rosella glared at him suspiciously for a few more seconds, then picked up her fork and began to eat. Antonio had to stop himself from letting out a breath of relief. Perhaps in a few more years he would broach the subject. But not now; not when their relationship was so new, so fragile.

“Holy…” Antonio heard Rosella mutter. He smiled when he saw her paused with the fork in her mouth, looking wide-eyed down at the plate of pasta that had been set before her.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Antonio commented, twirling a fork in his own dish. “The tomatoes for the sauce are grown right here!” 

“Oh my fucking God, I love this!” Rosella said, enthusiastically tucking back into the meal. Antonio watched, trying not to think about how creepy he was possibly being. She was just so adorable, enjoying as she was the dish he had asked Francis to prepare especially for her. He was glad she loved it so much… perhaps she’d talk about him like that someday? He almost chuckled to himself, realizing that being jealous of pasta probably didn’t bode well for his sanity. They finished the meal soon enough, and Antonio had the dishes sent in by one of the servant boys.

“I suppose there’s nothing left but to retire, hm?” Antonio said, helping Rosella out of her chair, much to her chagrin. 

“Yeah, whatever.” She said, looking pointedly away. She could be so fierce when she wanted to, and yet at times so shy.

“Oh, but you’ll need to get into your nightclothes.” Rosella visibly tensed at the words, and Antonio cocked his head, confused.

“Querida, what’s wrong?” He asked, worried. Surely he hadn’t said anything to offend her! He had only… oh. Now he knew what she was worried about. “Oh, don’t worry, Rosella! You’ll have handmaidens to help you. Give me one minute. Francis?” He called the name loudly into the adjacent kitchen.

“Oui?” The chef stuck his head through the doorway. 

“Do you know where Rosella’s handmaidens went?” Antonio asked.

“I don’t believe they left their quarters after they were shown there, Master Carriedo. Should I fetch them?”

Antonio nodded. “Yes, please send them to our bedroom.” He took Rosella’s hand, guiding her back out of the room.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of servants, huh?” Rosella commented as they walked.

“Of course! All nobility do. Ah, if you think I have many, you should see the home of a Lord.” He turned to her and smiled. “I may not be a Lord, but nevertheless you’ll have everything you could ever wish for here. You’ll never want for anything again, I can promise you that.” His grin fell as he watched his wife’s face sadden. Oh no… what had he done this time? It seemed he just couldn’t win. They stopped in front of the door to the bedroom. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to your privacy.” He said. He leaned down to kiss Rosella’s hand, which earned a blush from the Italian.

“Wh-what the hell, bastard? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a fucking princess!”

Antonio laughed. “Ah, but you deserve to be treated like one, mio bella rosa!” He said. He dove in to steal a kiss on her cheek, grinning as she sputtered incoherently at the gesture. “Until later, querida!” He said. He kept his word, walking away to occupy himself until Rosella was dressed and decent. Behind him he heard her open the door and walk into the room.

“You two!?” He heard her shout. He frowned. Huh; he’d thought she’d have been happy to see her old handmaidens here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Cosantoir speaking! This chapter was mine, if you can’t tell. Yeah, I mentioned that we’d have to have a scene where Antonio tries to, *cough cough* you know, and Emil just immediately said; “Here, you take it!” XD So here you go. Ah, I love writing Antonio. You can gush poetically about whatever you like for entire paragraphs and it’ll still be in character! Especially when he’s talking about Lovino. Or, Rosella, as it were…
> 
> Please do keep in mind that if we were being historically accurate, the husband and wife would have started trying for a baby the moment they got home, regardless of the wife’s wishes. Antonio is just a very special case! I mean, would a guy as head-over-heels in love as he is want to force his sweetheart into anything?


	8. The Balsamine

There, sitting on the bed, were Lauren and Elizabeta. Lovino stared at the two women, his eyes wide in surprise. What were they even doing here? Sure, they had been his sort-of-handmaidens before, but he hadn’t thought he and them were a package deal! Though… in all honesty, having them here would probably make life a lot easier. He didn’t even want to think what would happen if he tried to explain his predicament to a bunch of new girls.

“Yes, ‘us two’.” Elizabeta said, rolling her eyes. “Why are you so surprised?”

“I just- I thought you guys would be staying with Sadiq?” Lovino replied.

Lauren shook her head. “Of course we had to come with you! We’re the only ones who know about… well, you know.” Ah; so that _was_ the reason. Well, he couldn’t complain too much, could he?

“Why did that chef tell us to come to Antonio’s bedroom?” Lauren asked. “Where’s yours?”

Lovino paled. He had entirely forgotten about that! Come to think of it, just agreeing to sleep next to the Count had probably created a whole host of new problems, hadn’t it? Geez, the girls were gonna kill him! “Um… here?” He said tentatively.

“What!?” They both shouted, eyes as wide as his when he’d first come in the room. 

“Rosella, what were you thinking?” Elizabeta said, standing. “He could figure out your secret! Do you know how hard it will be to stuff a nightgown? And what if he decides he wants to hold you, what then?” Lovino shuddered. The last thing he wanted was that bastard getting all lovey-dovey and feeling him up in the middle of the night…

“I don’t know, I didn’t think!” Lovino said, panicked.

Elizabeta sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Okay. Okay, we can work with this. Lauren, go see if you can get your hands on some bandages and wool.” Lauren nodded, leaving the room hastily. Lovino and Elizabeta sat on the bed as they waited, the uncomfortable silence becoming more and more of a glaring presence as the minutes wore on. “So…” Elizabeta finally said. “How have you been? You know, since…” She trailed off.

Lovino looked away, hugging his side self-consciously. “How do you think?” He said, his words quiet, but biting nonetheless. “I’ve just been married off to a fucking man! I never w-wanted this!” His lip began to tremble as he spoke. Suddenly, he found two strong arms wrapped around him, and whipped his head around to find himself being hugged by Elizabeta.

“I’m so sorry, I really am.” She said comfortingly. Lovino allowed himself to relax into the hug for all of five seconds, before scowling and pushing her away with both hands.

“I don’t n-need your pity, bitch!” He said half-heartedly, turning away from the handmaiden. Elizabeta prepared to say something, but at that moment Lauren came in the door bearing the items she’d requested, and the three got to work. Lovino was forced to stand as still as he could, clenching his teeth as the girls wrapped his chest in bandages, and stuffed the bandages with wool to make it look as if he had breasts. The gown had made it easy to get away with nothing but some expertly-folded towels, but if there was a chance of Antonio getting... handsy, then they at least wanted him to get the right impression before Lovino inevitably pushed him away. 

Of course, then were the… delicate parts.

“You’re going to have to.” Lauren said pityingly, holding the bandages out to Lovino, who had a horrified look on his face. “It was easy to hide under two dresses, but with a nightgown it will be more… obvious. I’m sorry, but there’s no choice.” Lovino gathered up his courage and snatched the bandages.

“Well?” He demanded, blushing furiously. “Turn the fuck around!” The two did, resolutely facing the opposite wall as he bound his nether regions. For the record, it hurt; a lot. But he knew he’d be in huge trouble if Antonio ever noticed any kind of out-of-place bulge, so he did it up as tightly as he could bear before slipping on the nightgown. “Alright, I’m ready.” He said.

The girls turned around, looking him up and down. “I suppose it’ll have to do.” Elizabeta said. 

Lovino scowled. “What, I don’t make a pretty enough girl for you?” He said angrily.

“Here I thought you were dead-set against dressing up like this?” Elizabeta said, smirking. “Perhaps you enjoy it more than you let on?”

That was it. “Out.” Lovino growled. “Now.” 

Elizabeta, though seemingly unfazed, left the room with Lauren in tow nonetheless. Now came the test; the big reveal. They sent Antonio in. He poked his head around the doorway, smiling when his eyes fell on Lovino. 

“Ah, Rosella! You look lovely!” He said happily, walking into the room. He was already in his nightclothes, probably having changed in another room while Lovino had been getting ready.

“Lovely my ass…” Lovino thought bitterly. He was a lot of things, but he was not lovely. What did this bastard see in him, anyway? He wasn’t pretty or feminine or anything. Heck, he was constantly cursing the guy out! Lovino just didn’t get it! “Thank you, my lord.” He practically ground out the last bit.

Antonio just laughed. “Ah, it’s true! Like a delicate flower! Mio bella rosa!” He walked over to the bed, lifting the covers and climbing inside. “Come on, then.” He beckoned.

Lovino hesitated. Then followed him to the bed and climbed in under the covers. He lay still as stone on his side while Antonio blew out the candles, making the room go dark. Already tense, he began to panic when he felt Antonio’s hands move to his waist, trying to hold him. “L-let go of me!” He squeaked, moving away from the offending hands.

Antonio immediately pulled back. Good, then; the bastard knew Lovino’s boundaries. “Oh… okay, then. I’m sorry.” The Spaniard said dejectedly. He sounded really hurt…

 _“No!”_ Lovino scolded himself harshly. _“Stop feeling sorry for the tomato bastard, you idiot! He only got what was coming to him!”_ He curled in on himself, desperately hoping that no stray limbs wandered over to Antonio's side while he was asleep. Antonio, true to his word, kept his hands to himself the entire night, the weight on the mattress and the steady sound of his breathing the only signs of his presence.

It was going to be a long night.

Lovino was glad when the sun rose the next morning. He had been uncontrollably nervous the entire time, so much that he hardly got any sleep. Thank god Antonio didn't put his hands, or any other part of himself, where he shouldn't have. Especially the fake... ahem... never mind! Lovino didn't feel in the mood to talk about such feminine things.

So there he was, wandering around the various halls and quarters, with nothing more interesting to do. Antonio was busy with his duties as nobility. Pft... some fucking gentleman! Leave your wife home while you go off and have fun! Well actually, the real truth was a different story. Lovino rejoiced in having the day all to himself. He wouldn't have to worry about Antonio finding his secret out. He could relax with a good book and... wait, he didn't bring any books with him. Fuck!

Rosella Lavinia Carriedo, aka Lovino Vargas, died the year 1519 from the boredom of being book-less. Antonio F. Carriedo shuns his "wife" while "her" casket is being taken to its grave. Ha! That sounded realistic! Well, Lovino could always take a book from Antonio's personal library! Hooray... now his gravestone would say: Rosella Lavinia Carriedo, died 1519 from a harsh whipping from "her" husband. She deserved it, mind you.

Which death would he prefer? Lovino honestly couldn't answer that question. Any shit-faced brat would know that one: the death from lack of books. But then… would Antonio really have to know that he borrowed anything? His mind made up, he set off toward the library, remembering the route from yesterday’s little tour.

The library wasn't far from where Lovino was already, thankfully, since he was about ready to die from lack of air. Either Elizabeta had tied the corset tighter than usual or maybe his asthma was kicking him in the face. He could imagine the girls laughing at him now. “How unladylike to huff and puff and die of asthma while tottering towards the damn room!" Lovino muttered sarcastically in his impression of Lauren's voice. It  
didn’t help that he tripped over his feet with practically every step. Who decided that shoes should be six feet tall, anyway?

One hundred sixty-nine or more steps to go. 

In what felt like hours, Lovino slumped against the library's doorframe, trying to catch his breath. Breath in, breath out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in... come on, dammit! He wasn't THAT weak! He wasn't some stupid girl that squealed every time she lost her footing. Grumbling under his breath, he walked through the door into the expansive room.

A shiny wooden table lay at the center of the room, right under the large, marble dome. Around it, shelves lined every wall in a crowded but somehow orderly fashion. What was it like to own so many books? Antonio must've felt like a king every time he walked into this room! After glancing around for a couple minutes, he spied a copy of The Illiad on one of the highest shelves. Seeing it made him wistful for home sweet home. The Illiad was one of his personal favorites; a story of pride before fall in battle. A stupid war over some damn woman, but it was still a good story.

"Sing, O muse," He whispered softly to himself, "of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans..." Lovino paused, unsure of the next few lines. He had memorized that passage a few months ago. Headmaster Eduard would be displeased with his lack of memorization... if he ever studied with the bastard again. Lovino hadn't seen the man in ages. No! He did not miss his tutor! He simply missed acting as his normal gender, which meant studies.

"My mistress knows her classics, does she not?" An amused voice came from behind him.

Lovino whirled around, almost knocking over a nearby stack of scrolls. There stood the man, Lovino's worst nightmare: The sharp-eyed accountant, Toris. He brought so many questions into Lovino's mind, but one especially; what had that miniscule scrap of cloth had to do with his life?

Today, the seemingly simplistic man held a stack of classic or political books in his arms. So delicately did he hold them, as though he was carrying a newborn infant. "It's nice to know that at least one girl of high stature would know such things."

"W-why... hello... Toris... um... sir?" Lovino stuttered, his voice coming out an octave higher than usual. Why was he so nervous around a slave? He didn't know.

"Just Toris, my lady." He smiled slightly, a real smile, like he had gotten over the fact that his master had married.

"W-what are you d-doing here?"

Toris pulled one of the books next to the Illiad out of the shelf, then paged through it. "Ah, here we go. 'Each man delights in the work that suits him best.' And that's the truth, my dear countess." He slapped the book shut and handed it to Lovino, who took it slowly, unsure of what to think. It was the Odyssey, another favorite of his.

Lovino chose obscenities over a polite interrogation. "You didn't answer my fucking question!"

Toris, instead of looking horrified at "Rosella's" language, just smirked. "I did, my lady."

"How the fucking hell was that an-" Lovino started, irritated, but was cut off by the slave.

"I'm a librarian. I spend my time in the place I love best."

"That doesn't fucking explain anything! How the hell is my lord dumb enough to let you near the books?! Yes, I know he's an idiot but I didn't think he'd stoop this low!" A master would never let his slave touch something so valuable, much less teach him to read them... why was this man the exception?

Toris moved to place a new stack of books on the table in the middle of the room, so quietly, that you could only hear the slight thump of his shoes. "Why wouldn't he? I'm his secretary."

Lovino almost tripped over a fallen copy of the Prince. "You're his fucking WHAT!?"

"A secretary is a..."

"I know what the meaning of the word secretary, is bastard!" Seething, Lovino bent down, with difficulty, and grabbed the book. "I'm just... a little surprised, I guess." He confessed as he handed the book to Toris, who put it on the shelf.

Toris laughed in the soft manner that was expected of him. "Most people think that I'm his slave. It's probably because I address him as 'master'. In truth, he's only my patron." He sighed and began picking at his thread-bare shirt. "My brothers and I come from very far away, but Master Antonio heard about our talents and brought us to Italy. Eduard serves as the headmaster of a nearby school and Raivis serves the Vargas household. I myself was taken into his home, and here I am today."

Lovino's ear barely caught the familiar names. Headmaster... Eduard...? He could never forget the name of his teacher. Raivis... Lovino's manservant? The man that was afraid of almost everyone in the household? Both of them spoke about having siblings one time or another. They were probably both worried shit about Lovino too. Especially Raivis. Lovino almost laughed at the idea of the man crying his eyes out. But he controlled it. "Oh, I see."

"Yes." Toris reminisced. "That's the start of my new life. I've been here for years now, but I won't bore you with all of the details."

"Your story sucked!" Lovino shouted, covering up his horror of possibly being found out.

"Why thank you." Toris smiled without humor, but he didn't seem insulted, he just...seemed to be pondering questions in his heart. " Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to work."

And with that, he left Lovino alone in a mountain of books.

Lovino examined the Illiad in his arms while moving out of the library to sit in the courtyard. Someone must've been reading it earlier, for there was a white bookmark in it already. Lovino quickly flipped to that page.

"Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." Was the first thing Lovino saw on that page. The book mark was a bloodied, formally white, silk mask, like the one that Sadiq wore. Oh fuck... Toris must be working for Sadiq or something!

Lovino shivered at the thought. Maybe that's why the secretary gave him the creeps!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Cosantoir, here! Fun fact; I actually wrote only the first part of this chapter (up until the line "It was going to be a long night."), and Emil wrote aaaall the rest. She, however, didn't want to write the footnote because, and I quote; "You write it this time XD I'm not gonna get blamed for perverted Antonio". ^_^ So, please enjoy as you read about cross-dressing and perverted Spaniards, before segueing into serious intellectual discussion. XD


	9. The Daffodil

Life with Rosella was absolutely lovely, as far as Antonio was concerned. Though she did have her mood swings, and seemed to be averse to the idea of being touched at all by the Count – which, to be honest, hurt him a little, but he respected her wishes – she was a wonderful, beautiful young woman who he couldn’t have felt luckier for marrying. Which is one reason why it gave him great pause when one of his best friends dropped in the day after they were married and demanded they go drinking.

“Come on!” Gilbert said with a smile on his face, one arm draped over the Count’s shoulder. “We’ve gotta celebrate! And what better way to do that than with alcohol?”

“Gilbert, I wish I could, I really do, but we were only just wed! It would be horrible of me to go out now.” Antonio protested.

“Ah, she’s a big girl, she can handle herself, right?” Gilbert pushed. “Besides, it’s been ages since we’ve done this kind of thing! Don’t tell me you’re getting too old for it, hm?”

Antonio groaned. To be honest, he was missing their little outings… he and Gilbert had been friends for a long time, having met when the two were only around seventeen years old. Antonio, in his youth, had been involved in some... less-than-savory pursuits. He’d met Gilbert during one hazy night spent drunk and surrounded by the best women he could afford, and the two had spent the night generally acting like louts together. He had woken up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. Apparently Gilbert’s brother had come to collect him, but the albino had refused to leave without his ‘new friend’. So the brother, Ludwig, had slung them both over his shoulders and carried them home. After getting over their hangovers, the two had found out that they actually made pretty good friends sober, as well. Of course, the big reveal came when they insisted on escorting him home… they probably hadn’t counted on his nobility, and the house was a big giveaway. Still, Gilbert wasn’t scared by Antonio’s prestige like most were. Even better, when he met Francis they hit it off immediately as well. Back then, when they were still young and rowdy, they’d even had a nickname given to them by the establishments they frequented; the Bad Touch Trio. A name that still popped up from time to time. “

Gilbert,” Antonio finally said, shaking his head wearily. “You are a horrible influence.”

Gilbert’s face lit up, seemingly having taken this as a concession. “So you’re coming with, then! Awesome! Go get Francis, wouldja?”

“Yes, yes…” Antonio sighed, walking out of the foyer and into the kitchen, Gilbert following behind him. “Gil!” He said irritably. “If you were going to follow me anyway, then why did you send me in here?”

“Gilbert?” They both looked up to see Francis standing in the kitchen, looking surprised to see them both there. A smile soon came over him, and he walked over to give the albino a hug. “Ah, mon ami! It’s been too long!”

“Heck yeah it has!” Gilbert said, happily returning the hug. “So tonight we gotta make up for lost time!”

Francis pulled away, looking confused. “Tonight?” He said questioningly.

“Yup!” Gilbert grinned. “We’re going out! It’ll be just like old times!”

Francis put his hand on his chin for a second, looking thoughtful. “Well, I don’t know… I still ‘ave cleaning to do in ‘ere.”

“Oh, come on!” Gilbert protested. “You’re way too touchy about your kitchen! Let some of the servants clean it up for once!”

“I’m not touchy!” Francis protested. “I’m precise, there’s a difference.” Nevertheless, the thoughtful frown left his face in favor of another smile. “But ‘ow can I turn down a night with my friends?”

“Heck yeah!” Gilbert said triumphantly. “Gentlemen, we’ve got ourselves a party!”

Antonio rolled his eyes. “A party consisting of three people? Sure. Where did you want to go, anyway?”

Gilbert laughed as if the answer was obvious, walking out of the room with the others following. “Where else? Arthur’s place!”

About an hour later, the three found themselves walking into a tavern in the middle of town. Antonio had told Rosella he was out on business… dios, if she knew the truth… but he didn’t want to think about that. He was given a welcome distraction when they caught the eye of the bartender.

“Oh, so it’s you three again?” The bartender said, sounding exasperated. “I thought you’d stopped coming after last time?” The man, a short, scruffy Englishman by the name of Arthur, was the owner of the tavern. Antonio and the others had been frequenting his place for years now, (except for one odd year when they had been temporarily banned due to… reasons) and were well known by him and the staff. Though sometimes that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. 

“We could never stay away too long, Arthur!” Francis said, sauntering up to the bar and leaning confidently forward on his elbows. “Not when one as lovely as you is waiting for us!”

“Piss off, frog.” Arthur said irritably. “And keep your hands to yourself this time, or I’m kicking you out!”

Antonio and Gilbert snickered behind their hands. Francis had been carrying on this awkward, one-sided flirting with Arthur since they first stepped into the place. It had gotten rather amusing to see him get flat-out rejected each time. “Why would you say such hurtful things, mon lapin?” Francis purred.

This only served to anger the Englishman more. “I am not your bloody rabbit!” He huffed, turning to shout into the back room. “Kiku! You handle these three, would you?”

A dutiful “Yes, Kirkland-Sama” Came from the back room. In walked a young man, with short, jet black hair, and narrow brown eyes. He bowed slightly. “How can I help you?” He said.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother being so polite to these three. Just give them booze, take their money, and kick them out when they get too drunk. Got it?”

“Oh, er, yes.” Kiku said, looking surprised at Arthur’s bluntness. He turned back to the trio to find their eyes all fixed on him. “I-is something wrong?” He said nervously.

“Where are you from?” Gilbert asked.

“Oh…” Kiku said sadly. “I am from… what you call Japan.”

Antonio looked surprised. “Japan? You’re quite a long way from home, then. What are you doing here?”

Kiku was about to open his mouth again, when Arthur stepped in. “You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to, alright?” He said to the Asian man. His words took on an almost kind tone, which quite surprised the three. 

Kiku nodded. “Y-yes.” He said, before the Englishman left him once more in favor of a couple customers on the other end of the bar. “What would you like?” He asked, the question directed at the trio. The three got their drinks, then went to sit away from the bar. 

“So, Antonio!” Gilbert said, clapping his hand on the back of his friend and nearly driving his nose into his drink. “What’s it like being a married man?”

Antonio smiled dreamily. “It’s lovely… you should see my Rosella! She is the most perfect, beautiful girl I could ever have asked for! And yet…” He sighed. 

“…And yet?” Gilbert prodded.

“She refuses to even kiss me!” Antonio wailed before taking a long gulp of his drink. He set the mug down only when it was half-empty, looking despairingly into the bottom like he might find the answer to his problems there. “She doesn’t let me hold her at night, she curses at me whenever I even try to compliment her- am I really that repulsive?” He asked, downing the rest of his drink and motioning for another.

“Of course not, mon ami!” Francis said, taking a sip of his own drink as his friend’s was quietly refilled. “You only need to improve your technique!” He smiled.

“Technique?” Antonio said, confused. Then he realized who he was talking to, and glared at the Frenchman. “Oh, no. I’m never taking romantic advice from you again. Ever.”

Francis chuckled. “Last time wasn’t that bad!” He protested. 

“Are you kidding?” Gilbert said. “He had that black eye for weeks!”

“Don’t remind me…” Antonio said, shuddering. “She really is perfection, though… if only she’d let me show her how much I love her…” He frowned when he heard Gilbert snickering. “What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing… is she really all that beautiful?” He asked, smiling.

“That and more. Like a beautiful rose… that’s what I call her. Mio bella rosa.” He said. “But enough about that.” He said, desperate to change the subject. “How have you been, Gilbert? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, after all.”

“Oh, you know. Just my usual awesome self!” Gilbert said happily. “My brother though… ugh.”

“Ludwig?” Francis said questioningly. “What’s wrong with him?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “This girl left him and now he’s off to join a fucking monastery.” He said, taking a sip of his drink. “Easy way out, if you ask me.”

“A monastery?” Francis said. “I never knew him to be a particularly pious man…”

“I know, right? But this chick dumps him, and suddenly he’s off to dedicate his life to God or whatever. Didn’t even give a second thought to how I’d feel about it!”

Antonio laughed. “Yes, because he’s supposed to consult you before he does anything?” 

Gilbert was about to offer a retort, but Francis cut him off. “So,” The Frenchman asked. “How is your friend doing?”

“Friend? Which friend?” Gilbert said, looking confused.

Francis waved his hand flippantly. “Oh, you know. The Hungarian woman with the frying pan.”

Gilbert snickered. “Oh, you mean Lizzy!” Yes, they both remembered the day Francis had been introduced to Elizabeta. Of course, this was Francis we were talking about here, so the introduction had ended with an angry Hungarian and a frying pan to the face.

“Yes, yes, her.” Francis said.

“She’s good.” Gilbert replied. “Got a new job, actually.”

“Really? What’s she doing now?” Antonio asked. He had never actually met the woman, but heard many good things about her. Apparently the two were the best of friends, almost as close as the trio themselves.

The albino began to snicker again. “Oh, she’s a handmaiden now.” He said.

“Really, what’s so funny?” Antonio asked, frustrated. 

“It’s nothing! I just… thought of a joke someone told me a while back, that’s all!”

“Oh really?” Antonio pressed. “Tell me then, what was the joke?”

“Um… I forget. Anyway, let’s stop talking about women, huh? Tonight is only for us! To the trio!” He raised his mug over the table, to which the others promptly did the same.

“To the trio!” They said in unison, before each taking good-sized gulps of their drinks.

Five hours later and the three were still going strong. “No, no no no!” Antonio said, laughing. “It was never that bad!”

“You’re just saying that because you can’t remember!” Francis replied. “We nearly burned the entire place down!”

“Yeah, but it was fine, right?” Antonio said, confused. 

“Why do you think that place is a cobbler’s now?” Gilbert said. They all burst out into laughter, having a great time of it reminiscing about their days together. 

“Ah, I’ve missed this.” Antonio said, his arm around Francis’s shoulder. “Just me, you, you, and our three friends!” He gestured to the mugs, making the others laugh again. “I wonder what Rosella is doing right now…”

Gilbert and Francis both groaned. “Is she all you are going to talk about?” Francis said. 

“B-but I love her!” Antonio began to blubber. “And I don’t know what to d-do! What if she hates me? I think she hates me…”

“You know, mon ami…” Francis purred. “If it is pleasures of the flesh you are missing, I can- ow! Gilbert, what was that for!” He scowled angrily at the albino who had just whacked him over the head.

“You know what it was for, dumbass! We’ve got a rule, no taking advantage of anyone too drunk to say no!” 

“But look at him, he’s so sad! Surely it would be noble of me to cheer him up?” They both looked down at Antonio, who was weeping drunkenly into Francis’s shoulder, soaking his shirt. The Frenchman scrunched up his nose. “On second thought… perhaps it’s time we got him home.”

Gilbert sighed. “Fine, fine….” He said reluctantly. He’d meant for them to go all night, but he supposed it was time to get Antonio home to his wife, anyhow… they gave the money to Kiku, then left with Antonio leaning on Francis’s shoulder. The carriage ride back to Antonio’s house, he sat in between the others as they carried on conversation, seemingly unfazed by the bawling Spaniard in between them. By the time they reached the nobleman’s home, it was well into the afternoon.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets inside safely.” Francis reassured Gilbert as he hoisted Antonio out of the carriage. 

“Okay, but… don’t you think his wife’ll be pissed?” Gilbert said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Not that it was his fault Antonio was drunk this early. Of course not! Such notions…

Francis sighed. “We’ll deal with that when it comes to it.” He said. “Au revoir.” He said.

Gilbert laughed. Of course, Francis spoke Italian perfectly; he just liked using French to impress people. “Yeah, goodbye.” He said, before closing the door to the carriage and being driven off. The driver, one of Antonio’s, had been told to give the albino a ride home and then come straight back.

“Are we home already?” Antonio said, confused as he was walked up to his door.

“Indeed we are.” Francis said, opening the door and getting them into the foyer. 

“Oh, I’ll get to see my Rosella!” Antonio mused. “So lovely, my Rosella… mio bella rosa…”

“Yes, yes, she’s beautiful.” Francis said. “Now come on, let’s get you into a bath.”

Antonio looked up, frowning. “A bath? But I don’t-”

“A cold bath.” Francis interrupted. Antonio might have been too drunk to sober up as quickly as they needed, but if his wife saw him like this, he had a feeling he’d be in hot water… no pun intended. “You.” He said, stopping a servant in the halls. “Where is Mistress Carriedo?”

“She’s out in the courtyard reading, sir. Should I tell her the Master is home?”

“No, not quite yet.” Francis replied, letting the girl go on her way. Good; they had at least a little time. He walked his friend up to his bedroom, where the Spaniard promptly collapsed on the bed. Right; he’d figured. There’d be no getting him into a bath now. But now he had to figure out what to tell Rosella… he wracked his brain as he walked through the halls. Perhaps he could just say he’d had a long day, and leave it at that? Oh, but he hoped he could make it convincing… somehow he felt like he really didn’t want to be on her bad side. 

He stepped out into the courtyard and looked around, searching for the young wife. Expecting to find her reading, or perhaps storming toward him angrily, he smiled when he finally saw her; she was laying down on one of the stone benches, fast asleep. The Frenchman chuckled quietly as he walked over to the girl. How could she fall asleep there, anyway? A superhuman feat, if you asked him. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he picked Rosella up and walked with her up to Antonio’s bedroom, depositing her next to the nobleman on their bed. He grinned to himself as he shut the door behind him and, satisfied with his good work, went to take a good long nap of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey, Cosantoir, here! This one is mine, as you can probably tell. And I have to say... it was really fun. What can I say, I love the trio! Honestly, I think it's just really easy for me to write asshole characters... *cough* Prussia *cough*


End file.
